Für Mein Bruder
by red bean soup
Summary: Historical Hetalia. APH Germany publishes his diary, which spans through decades' worth of memories of him and his brother. Tribute to the fall of the Berlin Wall. (Discontinued for now)
1. Chapter 1

SUMMARY

Historical Hetalia. APH Germany publishes his diary, which contains his memories of his brother. Tribute to the fall of the Berlin Wall.

First-person narrative diary entries, attempting to write in a style without dialogue tags.

* * *

Foreword

I'd originally written these entries in Bruder's old unused diary. It was a large one, with a brown, wrinkled leather cover that was beginning to peel at the ends. Its pages were bound by hand and were thick and hard to write on. The thing had been covered with dust when I found it stuffed between Bruder's stuff. It was selfish of me to use it, I know. But Bruder was gone, and I found it comforting to use something of his. It was like I was actually talking to him and his presence was close, even though it was, in reality, not.

The thing about this diary is, it had been loved and written and carried around everywhere. I've already had a handful of pages fall out and I didn't know between which pages they belonged. After all, it's almost been half a century, and material objects only last so long when they are used as much as I did this book.

It took me about a month to put the old thing back put together and to type it up on an old typewriter. I had to decode the smudged words, and find some loose pages among my other things. But I managed to complete it. By the time it was finished, I hadn't even noticed how much time had passed. It's November again, and twenty-seven years since the Wall fell. After I send this book on its way to the publisher's, I'll be going to the site to pay tribute.

Many of the entries I'd written were missing dates. Looking back, most of it was of me reminiscing on a certain days of months of certain years. As for the rest, due to my depression in his absence at the time, the days mixed into all the others and I left the date blank. I've since edited those with the general month and/or year that it occurred.

It wasn't my original plan to make this diary public. I didn't even want to write a diary in the first place. I've never been one to have a diary, both in the past and present. But throughout these many centuries I've been in existence, I forget so many things; my people forget so many things. And I was afraid that, someday, my people will forget—I will forget—Bruder. So if I turn this into a book, if enough people read this, will his memory live on? I truly hope so.

 _Für mein Bruder— (For my brother—)_

 _Die Namen der Länder (The names of countries)_

 _können sich im Laufe der Jahre ändern, (May change over the years,)_

 _aber "Bruder" ist ein Name (But 'Brother' is a name_ _)_

 _das sich nie ändern wird. (That never changes.)_


	2. Chapter 2

25 February 1947

I'm not a big fan of diaries, Bruder. I see no point in keeping a constant record of my day and the momentary feelings that will be forgotten not long after. I like to live in the moment. You, in contrast, loved to keep diaries. I've found quite a few throughout the years when you were still around… without your knowledge, of course. I didn't look through them too much, if that makes things any less embarrassing for you. But instead of embarrassment, I actually hope you can feel pride for me finding them. Because your diaries allowed me to learn more about you, and gave me the confidence to become who I am today.

There were usually two Bruders I knew: one was the loud, excited, and proud Bruder who would introduce me with confidence to his friends, and allowed me to become confident in myself. The other was a gentle and calm Bruder, who read me stories and tucked me away at night and gave me the home where I could belong. But the Bruder in his diaries, while slightly vain, had worries and insecurities and problems. I often wondered why you kept that self locked away and hidden behind a leather cover. Because in that Bruder, I found a reflection of myself, and I realized that I was not alone in my worries. That Bruder made me decide to protect you, like you did me. Because we are family, and we should have each other's backs, right?

I will start from the beginning, long before everything happened. Back then, I remember we used to stay inside after it got dark. You wouldn't admit it, but I knew you had something against dark places. You often joked about it, saying your skin was like a beacon for the monsters in the dark. Actually, you'd make the joke so many times, that I began to compare you to the moon: glowing and bright against the dark. But, did you know-when darkness falls, the moonlight guides lost travelers to safety.

We didn't have electric lights in that era. You used to light candles before you'd tuck me in real tight. You'd walk over to the bookshelf across the room, where you stored a large variety of books. In my memory, your footsteps were gentle against the floor. However, one could tell, without a doubt, that each stride had a sense of purpose in it.

A lot of your books were romantic short stories. Your tastes had been quite a surprise in the beginning because, well, I guess it's because of how you usually behaved. Then again, once I found your diaries, it somehow made sense. But either way, I couldn't care less about it. Bruder would always be Bruder.

...And the the evil dragon roars with anger and blows fire as the knight defeats it and rescues the princess from its clutches! That was how they usually ended. It was your typical story about the knight and the princess. There were hundreds of them on the shelves, each with their own unique narrative styles. Most of them ended the same.

You never got tired of it. As always, you'd sigh dreamily from the aftereffects of the same old plot. But me, I was more skeptical about the logic behind the events.

I remember asking you, Wouldn't the fire burn the knight? To which you gave me a look of mock annoyance.

You told me that, Well, the knight's shield has magic powers bestowed to him by the author so he wasn't hurt by fire. Or something. But yeah, the shield kept him from being burnt.

Bruder, we disproved sorcery and witchcraft during the Enlightenment, I argued.

Be quiet, Deutschland. It's a fairytale, okay?

Pfft. You make no sense, Bruder.

Hush, you told me, and we bursted into laughter.

Our arguments always ended with my triumph.

I remember when the stories of the princesses and her knight came to a conclusion, I was always left with a final question that I'd always decided not to ask, due to a subconscious part of me that knew I shouldn't bring it up. But that night, my curiosity boiled over and overwhelmed me to the point that I finally asked:

What happens after The End, Bruder?

You chuckled. Aren't you the curious one? Sadly, the author doesn't say.

But something must have happened after the end of this book? Even if the author doesn't say? Surely, in real life, something happens after people get their happy ending.

You scratched your chin and said thoughtfully, Hmm...well, I am going to guess that afterwards, they got married.

You closed the book and went to return it to the bookshelf.

And after that? I asked.

You paused mid-stride and turned to look at me, still smiling. I could tell you regretted answering the previous question because he'd now have to think of answers to a lot, lot more. But you had always been patient with me and my curiosity.

They loved each other very much and took care of each other, you said.

And after that? I asked again.

Well, er, I guess they had children.

Your face turned a little red at your own words, but I paid it no mind because it wasn't the answer I was looking for.

And after that? I asked a third time.

Uhh, they lived out the rest of their lives in happiness?

And still, I was not satisfied answer.

But what happens after the rest of their lives?

Your pale red eyes darted around. Maybe it's time for you to sleep, Deutschland…

Bruder, I tell you. Please answer my question. And don't lie to me. I know when you lie. You start avoiding the topic and your eyes move around a lot.

You'd looked at me with an astonished look, probably didn't know the strength of a child's curiosity. Then, your eyes finally closed shut in resignation. Alright. If you insist, Deutschland. After the end, after the knight and the princess get married and live the rest of their lives in happiness, they pass away.

Oh, had been my only reply then. I'd known the concept of death at that age, even if it was a rarely-mentioned topic between me and Bruder.

As if you'd sensed my unease, your smile quickly returned.

But—uh—well, don't worry, Deutschland! When people die, they go to Heaven! And Heaven's a great place! Besides, we're nations, you know! We live for a long, long time. That also means we won't be separated. Am I right? you said as-matter-of-factly and patted me on the back.

Right, Bruder, I said.

You blew out the candles, and I will never forget how much it startled me when, suddenly, the only thing I could see was your pale skin outlined—as if in premonition—like a ghost against the moonlight that filtered in through the windows.


	3. Chapter 3

25 February 1947

Continued

My early memories are in the faintest fragments that I can only barely grasp, like holding onto the ends of a fraying rope with a numb hand that is slowly slipping. That's why, as they're slowly coming back to me, I want to write them down quickly, in case they disappear along with you.

The furthest I can trace back is to a nightmare, which I woke up from it with a start in the January of 1815, or so I believe. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins and sweat trickling down by face. My knuckles were white from gripping the fabric that was covering me. I looked up and saw dull drapes hanging from the canopy bed.

Outside, it was morning. I still recall the music and sunlight was finding its way through the window on the opposite side of the room. It was a vivid memory, particularly because of the relief I'd felt after I realized that I was safe from the things in my dream, and because of the foreign yet calming melody coming from the creatures beyond the window.

It was my full intention to go towards it, even if there was a barrier separating us, because it would have been enough to hear the music just a little louder. I sat up, but as I swung my legs off of the bed to walk over, a creak came from the other side of the room—the dark side without windows where there was no light. I was alert, ready to run, even though there was nowhere to go.

The door opens and the first thing I saw was white. Then, red. I probably should have been scared. There was a man much bigger than me, with skin so light it stood out against the dark, red eyes that looked like a ghost's.

He initially seemed surprised when me saw that I was awake and standing. After it wore off, he smiled warmly, and called for someone to get a glass of water. When your request was granted you walked over to me with the glass in his hands. That man was you, Bruder.

When you reached the bedside, you opened your mouth to speak. Your words sounded nothing like music, and I was disappointed. But, it was gentle, and I'd expected as such from the way your eyes twinkled with silent laughter when you smiled.

You said, Are you alright? Here, drink some water. You've been sweating really hard.

And I started because somehow, I understood what you was saying.

You continued to talk, You've been asleep for weeks, because of your injuries. I heard you were...in battle... Ah, I was so worried. I was so relieved when I hesrd that they'd found you.

When you noticed that I didn't respond, you asked, Don't you remember me? I am your brother.

I shook my head.

A spark of pain briefly flashed before your eyes, and was gone just as quickly. Then, you nodded, and your smile returned.

You said, I'm sorry. Just ignore the things I said before. May I ask your name?

I meant to say that I had none, but before I could think of how to say it, I replied with, Deutschland. The Land of the German People.

Strangely, I found it that it fit.

Deutschland it is, then, He says.

In the beginning, I found the man interesting in appearance, to say the least. His hair was as white as clouds, and his skin was pale to the point it almost matched his hair. The only color he exhibited, apart from those on his clothes (which were typically in black and white), was from his eyes. They were pale red—almost a pink hue. Sometimes it showed on his skin as well, for it reddened more easily than others' since it was so pale. I found it amusing how many times it has boiled up to a light crimson when he was embarrassed. He was arrogant and self-centered. Yet, he cared in his own way.

I came into the world a sickly child. I was not an official country, but rather a Confederation, with constant conflict between the states. I once asked you, Why does it always hurt? I don't want it to hurt anymore. I want to go outside.

I hurts because I am fighting Austria, You answered. To decide who would be your brother.

I said, I don't understand why you have to fight. Does it really matter? Both of you can be my brothers.

You laughed if off and said, I'm not satisfied with that. Anyway, don't worry about it.

You turned to leave, but you hesitated and turned back to me to say, I'll try to finish this war quick, Deutschland. Don't worry.

You probably felt bad about causing me pain, even if you didn't—or rather, didn't know how to—tell me. Whenever you were free, you'd visit me in my room and play your flute for me. It sounded wonderful, like the sounds I heard from my window that morning so long ago.

After playing for me for the first time, you sighed and said, I used to play with Austria, with him on his violin and me on this flute. It's strange how much we've changed.

In the end, you defeated Austria in less than seven weeks' time, keeping your word. I don't know how it felt to defeat someone who was your friend long ago, but if you had any regrets, you didn't show it. I guess all countries learn that trick sometime or another.

The only setback was that you didn't manage to win over parts of the southern states, but it didn't matter because in 1870, you got into a war with France and Napoleon the Third, and upon winning, succeeded in gaining the favor of the southern states, and united everyone together into an empire.

Thus, I officially became a country in 1871.

You never once told me that your name was Preußen—I had to find out from the others. You always told me to call you Bruder. You said that you'd been my brother for longer than I myself could even remember. Of course, my memory had always been very unclear, and there were gaps that I could not fill and pieces that I could not differentiate between dreams and real memories.

Besides, who was I to accuse you of lying? You were nothing but kind to me. When you were fighting in a war, you'd occasionally return home with injuries all over your body, a cheerful smile on your face. A fellow soldier would be chasing after you, shouting that you were still hurt, you should stay at the medic's a while longer; you'd reply that you wanted to see me a bit sooner, because you didn't want me to worry.

By that gesture alone, I would consider you my family unconditionally. And just like that, over the years, I've only ever called you my brother.

* * *

HISTORICAL NOTES

Germany first awakens after the formation of the German Confederation in 1815. Therefore, Germany wouldn't have exactly been the country Deutschland yet. But since his name changed a lot (i.e., the German Confederation, Northern German Confederation, German Empire, etc.), for simplicity purposes, we will leave it at Deutschland for his personal name and the exact name of his country during the time period as his formal or business name.


	4. Chapter 4

25 February 1947

Continued

You had gone through a lot over the years, Bruder. I didn't know the you from before I came into existence, but I have history records pertaining to you that I'd studied over the years. You were a large and powerful kingdom, able to stand against strong foreign powers on your own.

In my earlier years, you never let me go to war. Even though my body was still young, it was my duty as the representative of the German Empire to take charge of you and the other 25 territories of the empire. However, you argued that the royal family was Prussian, and claimed that it was all the more reason for you to lead in my place.

But it's me who is the representative of the German Empire, Bruder. I argued. That's why I am here! I want to help my people.

You gave me a dismissive laugh, as always. You can help them once you are older, Deutschland. It is my duty as your older brother to do everything and teach you until you can take over.

But I am a country, I argued. Age does not matter.

There was a brief moment of silence, and just as I was about to speak up again, you said, I just...don't want you to grow up so fast, Deutschland.

In a softer voice, with pain lining your words and a shadow cast over your face, you mumbled, Those that grow up faster die earlier. I know this all too well.

Struck silent by your sudden change in attitude, I couldn't think of anything else to say.

You chuckled nervously at my astonishment and told me, Forget about it. Just wait a few more years.

And a few more years...and a few years more... And before I knew it, they added up to decades.

With the smallest steps, you eased me into the world of politics and warfare. You mainly taught me the skills you learned from your old boss, Friedrich der Grosse, whom you'd fondly dubbed Old Fritz.

Fritz was the one that helped me get really good at the flute, you said. He had so many great ideas and awesome strategies. Oh, man, those years were the best ones of my life!

You really liked him, didn't you, Bruder?

Ja, of course. He was inspirational. I remember this like it was yesterday, so listen closely, Deutschland. This was back in the Battle of Kolín in 1757, against Austria.

You tended to describe him a lot with the world Awesome. That didn't tell me anything about how he looked, really. At one point I thought he had a There was a painting of him that you kept close, painted in the 1780s, which you brought out of your safe to show me. The man had large blue-gray eyes, and a long nose. His hair was gray and wavy. You showed him to me once, before you put him away again. I wonder how many of his portraits you kept stowed away. I'd been meaning to tell you that it is futile to collect them—he's never going to return and it's useless to keep grieving over him. But I can't because I understand. I'm already beginning to collect the paintings of you, so that I can still remember your face after you're gone.

Sometimes, you'd get lost in your memories. You'd stop talking in the middle of a sentence, your eyes would become glossed over with a blissful expression, and whatever pen you were holding would drop from your limp hands. When it happened first time, I spoke up and asked if you were alright. But after some years, I understood, and I'd sit silently and wait for you as you travelled back in time to the days when you fought alongside your old friend.

Like the days before I became a country, when the Empire was engaged in war, you'd still find time to meet me. You gave me a quick lesson before you got an urgent message that you were needed on the front lines somewhere, and your back would be the last thing I saw before you headed off to battle. I never even considered the chance that you wouldn't come back, because I didn't know that was a possibility.

Then, the First World War came and went, with the loss being ours. The world changes very quickly while one is not paying attention. By then, most of the countries around us were transitioning into, or had already become republics. There was simply no place left for royalty. Revolutions happened, fueled by the anger of our loss in the first war. The monarchy of the German Empire that traditionally consisted of rulers from your kingdom were abolished, and your kingdom fell. Bruder, I was so mortified that no one could understand—because our land is all we are! We cannot die from diseases or wounds, but once a territory is no longer ours...

...well, I haven't had it happen to me yet, so I do not know what comes. I guess it would be something equivalent to death.

When I found out that your kingdom had fallen, reality hit me quickly, and I realized that countries, too, could disappear. With you gone, I knew that it was then my turn to make decisions, just like you once had. But before anything else, I had to save you. In desperation, I pushed for the formation of the Freistaat Preußen. It worked, and you continued to exist for another three decades as a state of the new Weimar Republic. I thought I had helped you defy fate. But I couldn't have been more wrong.

In another two decades, the Second War started. I was still young at the time, and I couldn't foresee the direction my country was headed to. Even though I tried my hardest to put into practice what you had taught me, I couldn't do it. I wasn't you, Bruder. I had no experience nor ideas, and as a result, bad people took over.

It was the worst era of my life, and the most shameful. It hurt like hell every day. And even worse, I had to work with the bad people, because they were the boss. My people failed to see that just because something is approved by the majority, it does not that mean it is right. There was nothing I could do to stop them. Countries are bound to their people. In the end, my people suffered under my incompetence, and you will pay for my mistakes.

I must end this entry here. They are about to finalize your abolition.


	5. Chapter 5

Late July 1947

I've been busying myself with work in the past five months, and I'd almost forgotten to write in this. I haven't forgotten about this diary, but I just haven't been in the mood or condition to write. I'll continue from where I left off:

They dissolved the Freistaat Preußen on the 25th of February, 1947, by the Allied Control Council.

I was at the meeting briefly. I'd dressed formally for the occasion, as the abdication was almost synonymous to a funeral. You were paler than ever, and I couldn't be convinced that you weren't a corpse. Or maybe it was because I'd seen too many of those lately. You across from me-out of reach. They didn't want to put us too close together. I felt your eyes glance at me a few times, but I didn't return it, bowing my head to avert my eyes instead. I didn't want to see you in such a state.

The meeting was long and agonizing. And all that time, I sat with my mind blank, one of the only times it was ever in such a state. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism, to block out anything and everything that had to do with the truth that you were going to disappear. America was talking for too long, and I was beginning to get sick of his voice. The country whose revolutionaries were trained by one of your people, and ultimately led them to independence, was now standing against you and vouching for your demise. All of them-England, who had come to represent the UK, and Russia for the Soviet Union. Especially Russia, who had on the most smug face for having defeated me...

Nein, nein, nein. This is not right. I should be happy. After all, my leaders had done bad things. But it can't erase the fact that it was my people who'd supported them. Mine. And I am really confused as to how I should feel. Is this what it means to be a country, Bruder? To have all these conflicting thoughts, and none of your own. I could never have prepared enough for this kind of conflict.

As my contrasting beliefs and values collided and tore me apart, the meeting was over, and you were no longer a German state. I got up to leave, taking one last glance in your direction. I noticed that your appearance was significantly better merely moments after you were relieved from your duties a state. You saw that I was looking at you, but you made no move to come over to me. Your eyes seemed to say something along the lines of, I'm sorry, but I ignored it. I wonder if my face gave away how much it hurt me to see you then, no longer the great Prussia you once were.

I immediately left in the moments following the end of the meeting, refusing to stay to say my goodbyes. Because goodbyes seem too sad, and I don't want to believe that it is the last time we will see each other. It definitely isn't. I regret it. I regret seeing the uncertainty in your eyes as you debated, with your arm half-outstretched towards me, on whether you should call out to me.

I left before my mind convinced me to go to you. I was reminded of the times when you'd come home, and I'd run to you. You had your hands stretched out, I'd run into them, and we'd topple to the ground.

Summer has come around. The trees have blossomed and withered, replaced by green leaves. The sun is warm and the sky clear, a few clouds lining the horizon here and there. Whenever I fall into a daydream, I keep thinking that the clouds are your hair, and I snap to attention, only to find that you aren't there. Where have you gone Bruder? You were supposed to come back home, even if it were for a brief moment.

They say cats go off on their own when they are about to die. But you always struck me more as a bird. After all, you were the great Black Eagle of the North, as was the animal on your flag. So where were you, Bruder? Why didn't you come to see me, like you always had before?

But I didn't have time to think about such things-I had to fix my economy after the war. Now, the first leaves are beginning to fall from the trees. Summer is ending. Still, there is no sign of you.

I'd headed over to Spain and France's houses earlier today to see if you were drinking there. I figured you'd probably gotten drunk off your bum and spent a few nights with your pals. It wasn't unusual for you to be out for days at a time following a drinking spree, and now that transportation is delayed with the roads demolished in the war, it would be hard to get to and from home. So I went out to fetch you. Spain wasn't at home, so I'd headed to France's place instead.

Bonjour, Allemagne, He greeted me with the name he'd coined me in French, What are you doing here? and proceeded to look at me with a suspicious gaze. I didn't blame him.

I said, I'm looking for Bruder. He hasn't been home for a while, and I thought he'd been partying at your place.

Partying? France said incredulously. With the war causing such a toll on his health, do you think he would've been in the state to party? And after all that fighting and bloodshed...Non! Allemagne, are you not aware? He's been gone for months already.

Gone? If he is not here, where would he be? Spain was not home. Or did they go out together? Should I have waited for his return?

France answered, You were at the abolition. You must know what I mean. Or perhaps… Oh, mon dieu! You cannot be serious! He pressed his fingers to his temples. Oh, why must I always be the one to break the news… Your brother is no longer a country-state. And as for what that means, he is either now living as a normal human being, or he is disappeared off the face of this earth, never to be seen again. And since it appears he has not contacted you, I believe it may be the latter. Allemagne, you must have known this is what happens when a country is relieved of their duties?

By then, I had been standing in shock as I tried to take in what happened. Bruder, were you really gone? But, but, it had only been a few mere months! And I hadn't seen you after the meeting at all. Surely, there must be an interval in which you are still transitioning into a human, or disappearing, or whatever happened after.

Oh Allemagne, Je suis vraiment désolé. I am so sorry.

After all I'd done to him in the war, I don't believe for a second that France's apologies were sincere. But I was not in the state of hearing or comprehending at that moment. I excused myself to leave, and found myself in a state of denial as I returned home. In face, I am probably still denying it to myself, that you are really gone. In fact, the mere fact that I am still addressing you as if these words can really find their way to your head, is proof that I haven't grown up at all. I'm still a naive child, a dreamer and a believer. But no, I am certain of it. You cannot be gone. Not after all these centuries of greatness, all those wars you fought and won, all the accomplishments you made. You are still alive, and I will wait as long as it takes for you to come home.


	6. Chapter 6

December 1947

It's cold today. Temperatures are reaching the negatives, and it had snowed a lot last night. My home is covered in a thick layer of snow, lots of snow, and I am unable to go out; it almost reaches up to my knees. I would've gone to work if I could—but outside, even the cars are covered entirely by a layer of white.

Now what do I write about? My people work, as always. Some of them may actually be out there right now, working in the snow, as they have no other choice. It's because we lost the war, and we must pay reparations. And even half a year after the war ended, there's still hate, and laments. I hope to resolve it; history cannot repeat itself yet again. For now, the snow clears most of the people off the streets. It almost seems like I'm the only one in the world. I see a distant bird flying in the sky outside, braving the cold.

Are you cold, Bruder? Don't worry about me, I lit a small fire in the fireplace before I started writing. I'm sitting in front of the filthy old sofa, and I can see some tiny bite marks on it, presumably rats—it had seen better days. The fire is probably going to die out soon; I don't have enough firewood, nor the funds to buy any...not that I could get it delivered in this snow anyways. But don't worry. I still have some blankets and large coats lying around.

The fire is warm. It makes me recall old memories. I wish it would die soon, though. Sitting and being idle makes me think about too many things. Sometimes, I get lost in my thoughts and forget to breathe. Sometimes, it gets hard to do so.

You used to light the fire for me, remember? We'd make a blanket fort in front of the fireplace. Once, a flame caught onto the fabrics, and we had to stand outside as the place burned down. It was so cold...we almost froze.

...I really wonder if you are cold right now. I sincerely hope you return soon, or you might get sick in this weather. There's not enough fire to keep you completely warm, but here, we would have each other.

...

Well, the fire has died. I'm going to try to find something to do. Moving around will keep me warm. Perhaps I'll clean first, then do paperwork. It's been getting a little messy in here. But you'll mess things up again once you come back anyways. Right?

.

January 1948

Midnight

Happy New Year, Bruder. Even among the ruins of this country, we still managed to find it in ourselves to celebrate New Years. I continued to work throughout the day. The paperwork from the Allies is endless. But I allowed myself a break now, a new year has just begun. It is a time to reflect upon the past year.

...I suppose nothing good came out of last year. After Bruder left, everything seemed to be a dream. Eating was a hassle. Moving took too much energy, but I had to do so anyways. I moved and talked automatically as if I didn't even inhabit my body anymore. As I'm starting to go out and interact with my citizens, I'm getting a better hold on reality, and it's only recently that my mind cleared up and I'm beginning to think rationally again.

He's really not coming home, is he? The snow's melted, Bruder is still missing. It gives me relief to know that no one has found him dead. But I'm still not to be consoled. Maybe he's left for somewhere far away. Maybe he's really gone, just like France said. Ahhh...I must have drunk too much earlier. There's that beer mug I got you a few years ago on Christmas. It came in a pair, one for Bruder and one for me. I have the urge to throw it across the room and let it shatter all over the wall. But I would have to clean it up, and I'm not in the state to do such things right now. One more drink and I'll go to bed.

.

May 1948

It's already been a year since Bruder disappeared. Life had gone on as usual within the past year-I went to work, as there was still a lot of it to be done before my country fully healed from the war. The Allies occupied my country, with each of the four major European superpowers taking a portion of the land. All the while, there was no sign of him. He didn't return when the last leaf fell, nor when the first snowflakes fell from the skies. Now, the leaves are green again. Do I really expect myself to keep waiting?

Ah, God...I'm so tired. My economy's suffered hard within the past year. We'd since changed currencies, and with America helping me out, it looks like it's going well. But he and Russia are fighting, and as they both occupy parts of the country, it's taking a toll on me. I'm so tired. I've been working like a dog this past year. No matter how hard I worked, or how hard I tried to convince myself that Bruder will return, bit by bit, I watched my hope die before my eyes. I'd been lying to myself that whole time.

Veneziano came to visit me a few weeks ago. He said he hoped I would get well soon—even though it was a risky move, with the Allies watching and his own country in ruins, even after he had turned his back on me five years ago and switched sides to join the Allies. Even now, when all that belongs in the past and put behind us, I can't seem to find the heart to forgive him. I remember how much Bruder used to adore him. He even gave me condolences before he left. He said, I'm sorry about Prussia, Germany.

Sorry, he says. Does he really have a right to say such things? Just look at how lucky he is: North and South Italy united decades ago, and yet, here is his brother, alive and well—though the word well might be an overstatement—and where is my own Bruder?

Well, that is alright. I've already spent too much time hoping and dreaming when there were more logical things to be done. I am tired of waiting and having fruitless hopes. I can finally comprehend what people were trying to tell me: Bruder is dead and I've been lying to myself.

Now that I've said it, can I please just be at peace? I don't want to be anxious about this anymore. I am a country; I am meant to be alone. I should have understood the day Bruder told me that story. We're nations, you know! he said then. We live for a long, long time. That also means we won't be separated.

But Bruder lied. He lied to make me feel better. He is gone now.

Let me be free of him. Let his soul rest.

In the earlier points of my life, I had thought he was immortal, indestructible. But I was a young dreamer back then. I'll grow up, and slowly get used to life without him, just like humans do when they lose someone. I can do it. I've already been doing it for the past year, after all.

However, one last time, let me be a dreamer—if words may really reach Bruder, wherever he is, then this is the goodbye I never said to him: Goodbye, Bruder.

...I suppose I'll go clean up. I'll store this diary away somewhere—let it collect some dust. I've never been a diary kind of person from the start. But maybe I'll pull it out someday to write in it again. Maybe.


End file.
